Marc
I wish I had a new body, for various reasons: (1) I've never been all that comfortable with mine in the first place. Nothing out of the ordinary. You always want what isn't yours to have, and you get bored with what you know. Makes sense, right? (2) I want a younger one that can handle benders and weekends full of debauchery and hijinks. (3) I want one that doesn't fall down stairs or fall off of snow covered ledges into ditches. We won't elaborate. We'll just say I'm sore, and this weekend was painful, but excrutiantingly fun.
First, it snowed tons this weekend, which in and of itself isn't that cool, but it makes for difficult journeys and fun times. I missed the snowball fight the other night, and gladly so because I don't want to get pneumonia. I know people that've had it, and they said it sucked. So count me out, for real. The snow is cool for other reasons, though. It's pretty, for one thing, which is something we can all agree on. And I love running down unplowed streets and sliding in my little Adidas Superstars, letting the flakes waft up my pantlegs and cover my shins just a little bit. Enough to make me cold, and ready to keep running and sliding. Kind of like a controlled environment from my feet to my shins. Following me?
Everyone's a might bit less uptight when it's snowing. You don't expect fun things to be happening, because you expect everyone to stay in, because it's cold, and it's difficult to get around, but no one really does. We all still go out, albeit with lower expectations, and when it turns out that wherever you go is pretty fun, you act surprised, along with everyone else, and it's great. It makes you feel good. We finally snapped our sucky Saturday night streak. Last night fucking rocked. We saw Steven (acoustic trio w/drums now), and they were rad as usual, with funny song titles to boot. Chris and Grant are lifepartners. They have to know it by now. Then, Duvall came on. It's the Smoking Popes, with a bit more Jesus. Boo on the Jesus part, but fucking right on to the Smoking Popes part. They were awesome seriously, and I was in awe of Josh Caterer during one of their last songs, where he was walking around, putting his hands on people's shoulders while singing, and smiling, and being exactly like a preacher. And this may have actually been what the guy was going for, and right on if that's his bag (though we all know it isn't mine), but he still manages to fucking play. That guy wrote "Pretty Pathetic", which is in my top ten favorite songs for at least the next decade. It really was amazing to see them.
And the venue was great, at Illinois Wesleyan (sp?) University, right down the block, and I borrowed the Nap Defeating Roommate's coffee thermos and had a handy supply of alcohol in the car, which made it all the more enjoyable. Not to mention that the show was fucking free! And there were tons of great people there. Beauty. I'm glowing, but bruised right now. Think I'll go read for a while.
I wish I had a new body, for various reasons: (1) I've never been all that comfortable with mine in the first place. Nothing out of the ordinary. You always want what isn't yours to have, and you get bored with what you know. Makes sense, right? (2) I want a younger one that can handle benders and weekends full of debauchery and hijinks. (3) I want one that doesn't fall down stairs or fall off of snow covered ledges into ditches. We won't elaborate. We'll just say I'm sore, and this weekend was painful, but excrutiantingly fun.
First, it snowed tons this weekend, which in and of itself isn't that cool, but it makes for difficult journeys and fun times. I missed the snowball fight the other night, and gladly so because I don't want to get pneumonia. I know people that've had it, and they said it sucked. So count me out, for real. The snow is cool for other reasons, though. It's pretty, for one thing, which is something we can all agree on. And I love running down unplowed streets and sliding in my little Adidas Superstars, letting the flakes waft up my pantlegs and cover my shins just a little bit. Enough to make me cold, and ready to keep running and sliding. Kind of like a controlled environment from my feet to my shins. Following me?
Everyone's a might bit less uptight when it's snowing. You don't expect fun things to be happening, because you expect everyone to stay in, because it's cold, and it's difficult to get around, but no one really does. We all still go out, albeit with lower expectations, and when it turns out that wherever you go is pretty fun, you act surprised, along with everyone else, and it's great. It makes you feel good. We finally snapped our sucky Saturday night streak. Last night fucking rocked. We saw Steven (acoustic trio w/drums now), and they were rad as usual, with funny song titles to boot. Chris and Grant are lifepartners. They have to know it by now. Then, Duvall came on. It's the Smoking Popes, with a bit more Jesus. Boo on the Jesus part, but fucking right on to the Smoking Popes part. They were awesome seriously, and I was in awe of Josh Caterer during one of their last songs, where he was walking around, putting his hands on people's shoulders while singing, and smiling, and being exactly like a preacher. And this may have actually been what the guy was going for, and right on if that's his bag (though we all know it isn't mine), but he still manages to fucking play. That guy wrote "Pretty Pathetic", which is in my top ten favorite songs for at least the next decade. It really was amazing to see them.
And the venue was great, at Illinois Wesleyan (sp?) University, right down the block, and I borrowed the Nap Defeating Roommate's coffee thermos and had a handy supply of alcohol in the car, which made it all the more enjoyable. Not to mention that the show was fucking free! And there were tons of great people there. Beauty. I'm glowing, but bruised right now. Think I'll go read for a while.
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